Matchmaker Diva I: Firmin
by Sofricus Aurora Zakuro
Summary: In which a bored diva plays matchmaker and wreaks havoc at the Opera Populaire. First installment in a series. Musicalbased. Andre/Firmin slash, because there isn't enough of it


**Matchmaker Diva I: Firmin **

**A/N: **Random eleven-o-clock-at-night inspiration. Lots of crack and (hopefully only a little) OOC-ness.

**Summary: **In which a bored diva plays matchmaker and wreaks havoc at the Opera Populaire. First installment: the managers. Warnings: slash and a devious diva

**Disclaimer: **I don't own POTO

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Richard Firmin bolted into his office, coattails flying behind him like a flag of surrender as he slammed the door shut. He paused a moment, catching his breath, before opening the door and yelling "NEVER!" out into the hallway. The sound of theatrical, overwrought sobs could faintly be hears as Firmin slammed the door for the second time in as many minutes.

The flustered manager of the Opera Populaire turned to face the raised grey eyebrow and inquisitive eyes of his co-manager.

Firmin answered Andre's unasked question with two words. "La Carlotta?"

Andre rolled his eyes heavenward, his lips moving in a silent prayer. Firmin guessed that he was praying for some sort of disaster that would result in Carlotta leaving the Opera once and for all, though he had to wonder whether Andre was praying to God or to the Opera Ghost to provide such a disaster.

"What has some unsuspecting soul done to wrong our prima donna now?" Andre questioned after several minutes of silence. "Soiled her shoes? Forgotten to feed her poodles? Stepped on the hem of her gown?"

The taller manager rubbed his balding scalp, shaking his head with each ridiculous scenario his shorter compatriot proposed. "How I wish it was something like that, something groveling could solve," Firmin whined. Only a few months of working with Carlotta Giudicelli had made both managers into expert brown-nosers. "But it's worse. Far worse. Since La Carlotta is still convinced that Mademoiselle Daaé is sleeping with our patron, she seeks a liaison with an equally high-class player in order to gain an edge over her self-proclaimed rival."

Andre hid his head in his hands, mumbling incoherently. This time, Firmin was almost sure his friend was praying to the Opera Ghost to send another set piece crashing onto the troublesome diva's head. "And she realizes that the only people with as much influence over the Opera Populaire than its patron are its managers and the Opera Ghost. And since Mademoiselle Daaé already has the Ghost on her side…"

Firmin nodded. "And…I…er…"

The shorter manager shrugged, seemingly taking no offense. "You're younger, Richard, and you have more of your hair. You're the logical choice."

Firmin gaped as he realized that his friend was hiding a smile. "Gilles!" he exclaimed, feigning outrage. "You rejoice over your good fortune while you leave me to suffer La Carlotta's advances alone? Why, you think it's funny, don't you, Gilles!"

But when Firmin turned to meet his co-manager's eyes, he saw no humor, only anger and what seemed like…hurt? Was Andre really hurt that the prima donna had chosen Firmin as her target? But that couldn't be…Carlotta's opinion on anything had never mattered to any of them…

"And what will your answer be?" Andre asked quietly.

His co-manager cocked a brown eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't understand, dear Gilles. Answer to what?"

"To Carlotta, of course," the graying manager replied bluntly.

This time, Firmin was the one holding in laughter. "G…Gilles!" he chuckled. "You…you really presumed that it was even a _question_? That I was once even considering sleeping with…with…with Carlotta?" Unable to come up with an appropriate insult that was remotely bordering on politically correct, Firmin settled for referring to the irritating diva by name.

"Oh," Relief sounded in his friend's voice. Firmin raised his other eyebrow, thoroughly confused by his behavior. Did Andre hold secret feelings for Carlotta? No, it couldn't be…could it? Firmin felt a stab of indignation at the thought, though he couldn't fathom for the life of him why he would be indignant.

An awkward silence such as rarely existed between the two men lasted for several minutes. Firmin spent most of those minutes alternating between trying to understand Andre's behavior and erase disturbing mental image of his nearly-bald counterpart locked in La Carlotta's arms.

"What shall I tell her?" Firmin asked finally.

"Tell who?" Andre asked, apparently startled from some reverie by his friend's question.

"Carlotta, of course," the brunette manager responded, echoing Andre's earlier words. "I need some reason for rejecting her. I could say 'it's not right,' but then she'd argue that if it's so wrong, why do we allow Mademoiselle Daaé's affair with the viscount to continue. And 'I find you obnoxious and repulsive' is far too blunt, don't you think?" He sighed gustily. "Is there an answer that won't make her storm out of the Opera for the last time?"

Andre opened his mouth but did not speak. At first, Firmin thought he was going to suggest that having Carlotta storm out of the opera for the last time might not be such a bad thing, but he didn't. What he did say was completely unexpected.

"Tell her you're taken."

"Taken!" Firmin burst out. "But…but Gilles, that's a _lie_!" He waved a hand to silence Andre's inevitable protest. "Yes, yes, I know we've lied to Carlotta before, but that was in the name of brown-nosing! That's…that's…acceptable, you know! But I can't tell her I'm taken when I'm not!"

For what seemed to Firmin the umpteenth time that day, Andre's response was utterly shocking. "You could be."

The tall manager thought of a retort, but realized that none sprung immediately to mind. "I suppose I could…" he said, beginning to think out loud as he usually did when distressed. "There are plenty of young ballet girls that are pretty enough…That Meg Giry is an adorable thing, though she bores me to death sometimes…"

Once again to his shock, Firmin found himself cut off by his friend, his voice almost…shy. "I…I didn't mean a ballet girl, Richard."

Firmin turned to face his balding friend. "What…what did you..then…" He was cut off by a kiss.

He remained completely, and utterly still for about a minute, waging a mental war. Surely…surely he didn't believe that relationships with another man were right…

_Well, up until recently, I didn't believe in ghosts either, and I most certainly do now, _Firmin reminded himself, then got back to thoroughly enjoying Andre's kiss. He didn't have any thoughts at all for quite a long time.

When they finally broke apart; however, the first words out of Richard Firmin's mouth were not 'I love you' or 'Thank you' or even 'Wow,' though all of those things were certainly running through his mind. No, what he said was…

"Gilles, how on EARTH will I tell Carlotta?"

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Listening with one ear pressed to the doorway of the managers' office, Carlotta Giudicelli allowed herself a real smile. "Took the poor fools long enough," she muttered, "As much as they all complain, the Opera Populaire would be going _nowhere _without La Carlotta."

Straightening herself and adjusting the garish golden dress and hideous yellow feather boa she wore, Carlotta tilted her head back slightly and let forth one of her famous shrieks, accompanied with a virtual rainstorm of false tears.

"_There will be no need to be telling Carlotta anything, you traitor! I am done with this! Done! Finished! Finito!" _

Wiping her eyes, Carlotta sauntered away from the office with a secret smile on her overly made-up face. She knew the last part hadn't been completely necessary, but she _did _have a reputation to keep up.

The diva figured that, judging by the sounds coming from behind the heavy wooden door of the duo's office, she had a while before they appeared in her dressing room for the inevitable brown-nosing . Satisfied, Carlotta decided to find Piangi and collect the fifty francs he now owed her.


End file.
